Page 8 of Break My Heart (The Haydon Falls #2)

Sawyer

‘The place is packed,’ Nick says, taking a seat at the bar, the only one left. ‘You running some kind of special?’

‘Isn’t that what the other place is doing?’

‘Yeah, and their special ends today, which means tomorrow and this weekend it’ll be even busier here.’

‘So you copied her.’

‘It’s not copying. It’s price matching.’

‘Sounds like copying to me. Does she know?’

‘Yeah, she was here earlier.’ I smile. ‘She was pissed, but hey, it’s business. It’s not personal. So what can I get you?’

‘I’ll take the new lager.’

I fill up a glass and bring it to him. ‘You should’ve seen how cocky she was, telling me her beer is better than mine.’

‘Is it?’

‘No! What the hell? Why are you taking her side?’

‘I’m not. I’m just asking if it’s true. I’ve heard people talking about that place, saying how good the beer is. Just today, I heard a couple at the orchard saying they’d been to G’s and plan to go back. And they live 20 minutes away.’

‘Did you tell them about this place?’

‘Yeah, and I gave them one of your flyers, but as they were leaving, I heard the guy telling his wife he wanted to stop at G’s on the way out of town.’

‘Probably because of the $2 beers.’

‘Maybe, or maybe she really does have good beer.’

‘She does, but it’s not better than mine.’

‘And you’re not a little bit biased?’

I fold my arms over my chest. ‘What are you trying to say? That my beer’s not good enough?’

‘I’m saying you can’t get too comfortable. You need to keep trying to make it better, especially now that you have competition. You have a good location and a name people know, but that may not be enough if she’s got better beer.’

‘Her beer is not better than mine.’

‘Have you tried it?’

‘I went there last night. I told you that.’

‘And tried what .?.?. one beer?’

‘Two, which was enough to tell me hers isn’t any better than mine.’

‘Guess we’ll find out for sure when you two stop doing these price cuts.’ He takes a drink of his beer.

‘I can’t believe you’re saying this shit to your own brother. You’re the one who encouraged me to start this place and now you’re acting like I’m going to fail.’

‘That’s not what I’m saying. I just know you, and know you can be overly confident sometimes, to the point you stop trying. Like with the fall brews. You said you never got them to taste the way you wanted, but here you are, serving them anyway. ’

‘Because I ran out of time. It’s September. I needed the fall brews to be out.’

‘Even if they’re not what you wanted?’

‘I never said they weren’t good. I was just hoping they’d be better. I’m still learning here. I didn’t go to school for this. I’m doing the best I can.’

‘I understand that, but now that G’s is open, you may need to speed up the learning curve.

Spend more time trying different brews. Maybe call up some experts, see if they’ll give you some advice.

You can’t assume people will come here just because you’re a Kanfield.

If you want people to pay $6 or $8 for a beer, they need to be better than hers. ’

Nick smiles before taking another sip of his beer. I know what he’s doing. He’s saying all this to push me to be better. He knows how competitive I am and how pissed I’d be if Gina put me out of business.

As annoyed as I am at Nick for implying my beers may not be as good as Gina’s, there’s a small part of me that thinks he’s right.

That stout I had at G’s last night was better than I was expecting.

It was damn good, and as much as I hate to admit this, it was better than mine.

How did she do it? Where did she learn this stuff?

‘I need to go,’ I tell Nick.

‘Go where?’

‘In the back to make a new stout. The ones I have are lacking something. I don’t know what, but I’m going to figure it out.’

He gives me his smug big brother smile. ‘Go ahead. You want me to help out behind the bar?’

‘Seriously?’ I say with a laugh. ‘You’ve never bartended.’

‘How hard could it be? I can pour beer in a glass.’

‘Thanks, but I think Wade and Milo can handle it. Don’t you need to be getting home to Lyndsay? ’

‘She’s with Callie tonight. They’re at the orchard, working on the wedding plans. Mom’s helping out too.’

I smile. ‘Are you next?’

‘For what?’

‘Getting married. You going to ask Lyndsay to marry you?’

‘I am eventually.’

‘What are you waiting for? You’re not getting any younger.’

‘She got divorced a few months ago. She’s not ready to get married again.’

‘Is that what she said?’

‘No, but even if she was, it’s too soon. We started dating last summer.’

‘I think you’re the one who isn’t ready. I bet if you asked, Lyndsay would say yes.’

‘Just stay out of it and go work on your beer.’

‘Oh, so you can give me advice, but I’m not allowed to give you any?’

‘There’s perks to being the oldest.’ He slides his empty glass over to me. ‘I think I’ll try the porter next.’

‘Get it yourself. I’ve got work to do.’

I go in the back, feeling like a jolt of energy just shot through my veins. My passion for making beer is at a new all-time high. Nick was right. I was getting comfortable, slacking off, doing the same old thing. But no more. That competitive fire in me has been lit.

I’m not going to let Gina win. I’m determined to beat her. People are going to be lined up outside my door and it’s not going to be because of a $2 special. It’s going to be because my beer is so damn good people will wait in line for it.

The rest of the night I work on a new brew, a stout that’s smooth and dark and just the right balance of bitter and sweet.

It’s going to be my best yet. But I’m not stopping there.

I’m going to redo all of the fall brews.

And I’m going to perfect my hard cider. The competition is just a few weeks away and I’m determined to win.

There’s no way Gina is winning a contest hosted at my own family’s orchard.

I feel like I’m seven again, back at camp, competing against the annoying girl with the big brown eyes and messy long hair that was always flying in her face.

I can still see her smug smile that showed up before every competition.

She was so sure that she’d win. She didn’t even consider she might lose.

And now she’s here in Haydon Falls with that same smug smile, assuming she’ll win again.

It’s not going to happen. She is not putting me out of business in my own hometown. She wants to own a brewery? She can do it somewhere else. She doesn’t need to do it here. She can sell that building she inherited and use it to start a place in a different town, because this town is mine.

*?*?*

The next morning, I go to the orchard to get a new crop of apples.

‘Hey, Mom,’ I say, giving her a quick hug on my way to the fields.

‘What’s the rush? Where are you going?’

I stop before I reach the door. ‘I need to pick some apples. I’m working on the hard cider today.’

‘I thought you were done with that,’ she says, meeting me at the door.

‘I thought I was too, but I think it needs more work. I have some ideas I want to try.’

‘Why don’t you just take the apples we already picked?’

We’re in the barn and she points to the crates of apples lined up against the wall. Not everyone wants to pick their own so we put apples in crates for people to bag up and buy. We also have bags that are already filled.

‘I want them fresh from the trees,’ I say. ‘The flavor will be better.’

‘Sawyer, that’s a myth. You know that. The picked ones taste just as good.’ She sighs and hands me a picking basket. ‘Be sure to say goodbye before you leave.’

‘I will. Thanks, Mom.’ I give her a smile as I go out the door.

‘Oh! Sawyer, there’s .?.?.’ Her voice gets lost in the rustling sound of the trees blowing in the breeze as I head to the orchard.

It’s Friday morning and the orchard isn’t open to visitors until ten.

I like having the place to myself. It’s calm and quiet and lets me focus on finding the perfect apples for the best batch of hard cider I’ve ever made.

‘What are you doing here?’ someone says from behind me.

I turn around and see Gina standing there, wearing a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter white tank top with a plaid flannel shirt over it, left open in front. My gaze immediately drops to her tits. Damn, they’re big, or maybe they just look big compared to her tiny waist and small frame.

‘Hello?’ she says, sounding annoyed. ‘I asked what you’re doing here.’

‘I’m picking apples, not that I owe you an explanation.’ I walk up to her. ‘My family owns the place. I can be here whenever I want. Why are YOU here? We’re not open until ten. Did you sneak on the property to steal our apples?’

Her jaw drops, then snaps shut. ‘I can’t believe you just said that! Do you really think I’m a thief?’

‘I don’t know.’ I take a step closer. ‘I don’t know anything about you, other than that you use cheap tactics like $2 beer to get customers.’

‘You mean the tactic you copied from me to get people to go back to your brewery? Is your beer that bad that you have to sell it below cost to get people to drink it?’

‘You did it first!’ I yell, my blood boiling. I am so damn angry, and not just because of what she said, but because she’s here, at my orchard, and looking so fucking hot I’m having a hard time concentrating.

‘I did it for the opening!’ she yells back. ‘So people would give me a chance! I don’t have it easy like the local golden boy with his Kanfield halo.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean? You really think my name is the only reason people come to my brewery?’

‘It’s definitely not hurting you.’ She steps up to me, practically in my face. ‘G’s is a long drive from town, I’m not a local, and I’m competing with the guy who everyone treats like a celebrity because of his last name!’

‘So you’re using that as an excuse for selling cheap beer?’

‘It was for the grand opening!’ She throws her hands up. ‘You’re not even listening!’ She stomps off. ‘Just leave me alone. I don’t have time for this.’